


A Dream and a Whisper

by melagan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melagan/pseuds/melagan
Summary: Directly after receiving his black mark, John uneasily waits for his next orders.But why does this guy, Rodney, keep showing up in his dreams?





	A Dream and a Whisper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goddess47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess47/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dream Shop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273476) by [niffer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffer/pseuds/niffer). 



It was always the same man who showed up in his dreams. Grey suit, sandy-colored hair, bright blue eyes, and a crooked smile. Always polite, and always offering John a ridiculous choice. 

"Welcome to my Dream Shop, Major Sheppard."

"Yeah, I've been here before. What did you say your name was?"

"You can call me Rodney." They stood in a round room full of tall, angular windows. Rodney pointed to the soaring towers in the background. "All of this is my Dream Shop."

"Right." John planted his feet and folded his arms across his chest. "Last time I saw a city of spires floating in the clouds."

"Last time you didn't come inside." Rodney gestured towards the window. "Maybe you'd like to see for yourself?"

Curiosity got the better of him and John untensed enough to walk over and look out the window. Past the towers, there was nothing but sky and clouds as far as the eye could see. He gripped the window ledge. "It's just a dream."

"Well, yes," Rodney admitted. "In one sense, at least. You see, I trade in dreams."

"That doesn't sound at all suspicious. Let me guess, all you want is my soul?"

Rodney looked genuinely aghast. "No, Major. That’s not what I do at all."

Usually, this is when he woke up, but for some reason, not this time. He decided to try to get some answers while he could. "Go on."

"I take tarnished dreams, the broken ones, the dreams that have soured with age or gotten lost. And then I give new, hopeful dreams in exchange."

"Do you take nightmares?" John blurted.

"Sorry, no. That's another department. However, you might find that with fresh dreams the old nightmares loosen their hold." Rodney's face broke into a pleased smile. "It's an excellent offer."

~*~

John woke with a start. With a mouth dry enough to rival the Sahara, he reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. It was happening again. The same goddamned dream. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand over his face. He never thought he'd be this thankful for the flashing neon light illuminating his cheap motel room.

The red-orange glow from the street sign below was about as different as John could get from the shades of blue and green in his dreams. He took a large gulp of water. Too large. He nearly choked on it and ended up spilling half of it all over him. 

Damn it. John pulled the wet t-shirt off and wiped his face with it. He got up, turned on the light and pulled a clean shirt out of his duffle bag. His watch said it was 0:200. A bitch of a time to be awake. He pulled on his jeans and tied his sneakers. No point in trying to sleep now.

Stepping out into the warm night air he headed for the nearest all-night diner. It was a chain restaurant like a dozen others, decorated in too-bright colors and hard, fluorescent lighting. John knew from experience that the night staff wouldn't blink an eye when he walked in. 

He sat there for a long time as his coffee grew cold. John barely noticed. It was a place to sit, a place where he wouldn't fall asleep. That was the last thing he wanted, not because his dreams about Rodney and the Dream Shop were awful, but because some part of him ached for them to be true.

~*~

Another dream. In this one, Rodney laughed at his lame jokes as they walked around the cloud city. Sometimes, Rodney would take his hand and pull John along, eager to show him something new. Once more, Rodney offered to exchange John's broken dreams for new ones and once again he refused. But he was weakening and he knew it. If Rodney offered again….

A sharp knock on his door had John leaping from the bed. "Who is it?" He yanked on his jeans and raked his hands through his unruly hair. He didn't need the clock to notice the first rays of sunlight creeping through his window. Early, but not too early for Major Davis to send someone over from Nellis with his marching orders. 

He shoved his feet into his sneakers and checked for stains on his sleep shirt. Good enough. After another sharp knock—someone was impatient—John pulled the door open. "Who the hell are you?"

"Major John Sheppard?"

"Yeah. Who's asking?"

"You don't know me, but I'm Dr. McKay. Can I come in?"

"No." John glared at the man on the other side of the doorway. Late thirties, probably some desk jockey by the looks of him. No glasses, but he wore an orange and tan long-sleeved striped shirt over a pasty green t-shirt that sported a caffeine molecule. 

McKay seemed vaguely familiar but he certainly wasn't military, and no one John knew would leave their house dressed like that. This guy looked like one bad judgment away from wearing white socks with his sandals. 

"Please, Major, I have vital information regarding your future. My future as well. One might even say the importance of my future can't be stated strongly enough. Yours too, of course."

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested, McKay. Do you even know what time it is?"

"It's Dr. McKay. Is it too early? Sorry, I've been trying to track you down all night, ever since I got my hands on the report. I had no idea it was—"

"Just past the ass-crack of dawn?" 

"Oh. Is it really?" McKay glanced around as if he were just noticing the hour.

"Good-bye." He shut the door in McKay's face. John leaned back and thumped his head against its wood surface. It was too early to deal with this shit. He couldn't help grinning when he felt McKay kick at the door. This guy sure didn't like no for an answer. 

"Sheppard! We really need to talk. Here, take this."

The kicking stopped. John looked down to see that McKay had slipped a business card under the door. 

"Call me!" 

John waited another minute before cracking open the door. His unpleasant visitor was gone. What the hell had that been about? He picked up the card and shoved it in his shirt pocket. 

Yawning wide enough to feel his jaw crack, John scratched at his chest. Shower and a shave, and then coffee. After that, he'd likely be twiddling his thumbs while still waiting for the brass to make their decision. 

John didn't regret going against orders to rescue Holland, but this business of waiting around for the brass to decide his fate was unnerving. All the uncertainty might even explain why his dreams were so strange lately.

Bathroom filling with steam, John stood in front of the mirror, razor in hand and froze. He stared blankly at his own reflection. No, it couldn't be. People didn't walk out of a dream and come knocking on your door. Impossible. He snorted. "Good one, John." 

Mid-stroke of the razor, he stopped. The card. He scrambled for his shirt, picking it up from where he'd tossed it. Yanking the card out, he read the name. _Rodney McKay PhD PhD_. Rodney. Oh, hell no.

He set the card down carefully, finished shaving, took his shower and got dressed. As he moved around the room, every few minutes his gaze would land back on the card. How, who, and what the hell was going on? 

As ready as he was going to be, he sat down with his coffee and picked up the card. No identifying marks beyond the obvious name and phone number. Decent quality cardstock but nothing special. No marks on the back. One corner was creased, probably from where he'd shoved it in his pocket. 

He smoothed his thumb over the name. Rodney McKay. He'd only gotten a quick look at the guy before shutting the door in his face. McKay's combover had camouflaged his widow's peak and he'd looked tense enough to wind a propeller just by standing near it, but once John looked past that, it was obvious he was the same guy as Rodney the Dream Shop owner. 

If this was a practical joke it was the most elaborate one he'd ever heard of. Fucking with a man's dreams—who did that? Fucking, Rodney McKay, apparently. It wasn't right, making promises of things he couldn't have, making him want…. 

John pushed that thought aside. Better to think about McKay gaining access to reports he never should have seen. If those reports were about John's last unsanctioned rescue attempt, did Rodney intend to blackmail him? Fat chance of that once Major Davis got wind of it, and John would make sure he did. Kicking back the last of his coffee, he pulled out his phone. Time to get some answers. 

McKay picked up on the first ring. 

"It's John Sheppard. You wanted to talk?"

"Oh, thank God. Yes, but not over the phone. We need to meet. Somewhere private."

"Okay. There's a coffee shop just around the corner from the motel that has a table and a couple of park benches across the road. Not many use it, just a couple of old guys that like to play chess. It should be empty this time of day."

"Great. I can be there in fifteen minutes. Bring the coffee."

"Why do I have to bring the coffee?"

"One cream, two sugars."

John stared at his phone in disbelief, before shaking his head and answering, "Fine, but you bring the doughnuts."

He hung up. Somewhere between ending the call and setting his phone down John realized McKay's voice sounded exactly the same as it did in his dreams. Exactly the same. The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Whatever this was, it wasn't a just a prank.

~*~

Two coffees in hand, John walked up to the park bench. Rodney was already sitting there waiting for him and damn if he hadn't brought a box of doughnuts. John handed him his coffee. "One cream, two sugars. Now talk."

"Hello to you, too, Major Sheppard."

John remained standing, keeping one eye on McKay and the other on the road. If anyone from the diner approached, he'd know it. "You're the one that came to me, remember?"

"Right. Relax, Sheppard, I came alone. Actually, I could lose my job if anyone knew I'd hunted you up. And, while I don't expect you to believe me, that would be disastrous for reasons you can't even conceive of."

"Does that include invading my dreams?" John asked. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You know." Holding onto his coffee stopped John from folding his arms across his chest so he settled for glaring. 

"Okay—to the point of all this. Do you remember your last physical exam? The one that required a little bit more of you than pissing in a cup? Think back. A nurse or doctor would have taken a swab of your mouth and collected some DNA. Sound familiar?"

John did remember, he just hadn't given it any thought at the time. "My DNA?" It's not like they couldn't have collected plenty of that in the past with the number of injuries he'd had over the years. "What makes it so special this time?"

Rodney laid his finger alongside his nose. "Aha! Exactly. You're sharper than I gave you credit for. Unfortunately, I can't give you the answer to that until you sign an NDA. I can tell you that certain people have a genetic trait that's unique to a very few. I checked your medical records and you happen to have this gene in spades—

"You hacked my medical records?!"

"Oh, please, stop acting like I've affronted your special snowflake status. I hack everyone’s." 

John's jaw tightened.

Rodney's next words came out in a rush. "As rare as this genetic trait is, it's even rarer to find a person with such a strong expression of it. You have no idea how vitally important that makes you."

"And just why is that?" 

"I'm not at liberty to say." For the first time, the arrogance dropped from Rodney's face. He looked tired, stressed, and a little lost. "I need you to trust me. General O'Neill is going to make you an offer. You have to accept it."

"You may not have heard, but my status with the Air Force is somewhat rocky right now. That happens when you steal a helicopter and defy orders. I hardly think O'Neill is going to want me around." 

"You'd be surprised." Rodney stood up and took a big bite out of a powdered donut. After a couple of chews, he swallowed and chased it with a big swig of coffee. "Oh God, that's good. What?"

"Nothing." John took a sip of his own coffee and wondered how bad the coffee had to be where McKay came from if he thought this stuff was that good. "You still haven't told me how you got into my dreams."

"You see me in your dreams?" Rodney said, sounding surprised. 

"I already told you that. Weren't you listening to me?" McKay didn’t need to know how badly he'd gotten to him. Tempting John with his crooked mouth and smartass wit, showing him things he couldn't have, making him feel like he had a place in the universe. 

"Listening? Not really, no." Rodney paused, looking lost in thought. "Have you touched anything recently? Say, a strange-looking rock or something that looked like an Egyptian artifact?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Rodney about the old street vendor in Kabul when a black SUV slowly rolled by. "Don't look now, but that's the second time that same vehicle has driven by here."

Some of Rodney's paranoia must be rubbing off because John had to ask, "That's not for me, is it?"

"No, it's for me." Rodney abruptly stood and tucked the box of doughnuts under one arm. "My time's up. Please, remember what I said. When you get O'Neill's offer, take it. You won't regret it." 

John watched as the driver pulled over and Rodney climbed inside. The SUV drove off, leaving him behind with a lot of questions and no good answers.

~*~

He was still trying to figure out McKay's angle when he got the call to report in to Major Davis at 0800 the next day. No hint as to which way the wind was blowing but John packed his bags, just in case.

That night the Dream Shop made another appearance. Rodney stood there in his grey suit and beckoned him forward. "This way, Sheppard, there's something I want to show you."

"Something's different." John walked over to window. This time, instead of being surrounded by clouds he could see miles of ocean stretched out in front of him. "We're by the ocean?"

"Sitting on top of it, actually. But that's not what I wanted to show you." He held out his hand for John to take. "This way. I think you'll find this interesting." 

"Are you planning on showing me another dream?" John asked. He'd seen that same eager expression on the real Rodney McKay's face. The difference was that here, in the dream world, it seemed perfectly normal lean to in for a kiss and find out what Rodney tasted like. He didn't, but he wanted to.

Rodney smiled back at him but instead of answering his question, he waved his hand over a light panel and a door slid open. 

"What is…." John stepped inside and gaped at the row of vehicles parked there. "This is a hanger. And…are these what I think they are?"

"If you're thinking highly maneuverable aircraft capable of orbital flight, then yes, that's exactly what they are." Rodney looked so damned pleased with himself that John couldn't help grinning back. 

The images dissolved away and John woke up. Space shuttles. Wow. He didn't have a handle on this Dream Shop business but if Rodney McKay could show up in person maybe these little ships were real, too.

~*~

John walked into the Major's office expecting to see both Major Davis and his C.O. Instead, leaning back in Davis' chair sat General O'Neill. John immediately straightened and saluted. "Sir!"

"Relax, Major Sheppard. Close the door behind you and come sit down." 

John did. The hard part was keeping his mouth shut and not asking O'Neill about flying spaceships. "If you don't mind, sir, I can cut to the chase. My answer is yes."

"That's cutting it." O'Neill's eyes narrowed. "And you think you know what I'm going to ask? Did Dr. McKay happen to talk to you, oh say, recently?"

"Yes, sir."

"Damn it. He knows perfectly well he's not supposed to run around all willy-nilly and start chatting people up. Now, I'm going to have to slap his hand."

"He didn't say anything, sir. Not really, just that if you offered me something, I should say yes." John sat on the edge of his chair, praying he hadn’t just screwed his chances up. "He never said what that something would be, sir."

"Oh." O'Neill reached for the phone. "Davis, get in here with the paperwork for Sheppard to sign. He says yes." He hung up the phone. "Well, that was easy. Maybe I won't have to have Daniel yell at Dr. McKay after all."

Davis came in, O'Neill left. John read and signed papers until his wrist ached. Somewhere in there was food and coffee. But there was no Rodney to be seen anywhere. He was oddly disappointed about that. 

Six hours later he was on a plane heading for McMurdo. That had come as a surprise. He'd expected to be assigned to Area 51, what with the spaceships and all. What the hell was in Antarctica? 

Once he arrived at McMurdo, John was given a bunk, told to be ready to leave in the morning and then left to himself. As tempting as it was to crash and catch up with the jetlag, he stowed his bag and made his way to the dining hall. He figured it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions. Such as, since he was already in a remote base in Antarctica, where was there to go from here?

He poured a mug of coffee and grabbed a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. He stared down at his tray of caffeine, carbs and protein and all of a sudden, he was starving. As he ate, John listened to the conversation around him. He picked up enough to know there was a regular run between here and a small, scientific base a few miles out. 

A couple of young guys came up and invited him to join them in a drink. "Can't. Sorry. Got an early ride in the morning and I'm still feeling the jetlag." That got him about as much sympathy as he expected. None. 

"You heading to the Nerd Dome?" one of them asked, pushing his taped glasses up higher on his nose. 

"Nerd Dome?"

"Yeah," the second guy said, scratching his beard with the edge of his slide rule. "That's what we call it."

John kept his expression bland. "Okay. Good to know." Just how nerdy did someone have to be to earn that title from his fellow scientists? 

The two moved on and John dumped his tray and headed for his bunk. He had a feeling he was going to need all the rest he could get. 

The next day, one bumpy chopper flight and a long, deep elevator ride later, he had a chance to see the inner workings of the Nerd Dome for himself.

~*~

"Major Sheppard, I'm Dr. Weir."

A slim, dark-haired woman held a clipboard in one hand and held the other out for him to shake. She was waiting for him before he'd even stepped of the elevator. "Welcome to our outpost, Major."

"Dr. Weir." 

"You can call me Elizabeth. I'm the civilian head on this project. I'm afraid I don't have time to show you around right now, but Dr. Beckett has a few minutes to spare. Carson," she called over her shoulder, "could you give Major Sheppard a look around?" 

Dr. Beckett came over and nodded. He looked distracted about something but John didn't know him well enough to ask. "How do you do, Major Sheppard." He glanced at his watch. "I'm sorry but I can really only spare fifteen minutes. I've got to get back and check the results. I'm working on—well something that's quite important. I'm sure you understand."

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "In that case, be sure to show Major Sheppard the Ancient chair first. Major Sheppard has the Ancient gene. And quite a strong expression of it, I'm given to understand." 

"Oh!" Carson grabbed John's hand and shook it hard. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, Major. For purely selfish reasons, I'm afraid. Maybe Rodney will finally stop harassing me and I can get my own work done."

"Dr. Rodney McKay? He's here?" 

"Aye, Major Sheppard, and probably working in the chair room right now."

John drew in a slow breath. Maybe now he'd get some answers. "Let's go."

He followed Beckett into a small room dominated by an archaic piece of furniture that looked more like a medieval throne than any chair John had ever seen. Rodney was standing next to it, glaring at it as if it had offended him in some way. 

"Rodney?" 

Rodney spun around, "John! You're here!" 

"Yeah, I just got here." John scowled, "Hey, how did you get here so fast anyway?"

"I got a lift from the Prometheus."

"The Prometheus?"

"Never mind, I'll catch you up later. Right now, I need you in that chair." 

"I'll just leave him here with you, then," Carson said.

"Yes, go." Rodney waved him off. "The Major and I have a lot of work to do."

Beckett didn't waste any time. He hustled off without a backward glance leaving the two of them all alone in the room.

John poked at the chair's gel pad. "What do you call this thing?"

"It's a control chair designed by the Ancients."

"The Ancients. Yeah, I'm still getting caught up on that. Who were they?"

"I promise to fill you in later. Right now, if you'd just sit down, it would help enormously." 

"Okay." John sat.

"Major, think about where we are in the solar system."

The world burst open. Images of earth, the solar system, the stars and beyond lit up the room. 

After a few breathless seconds, Rodney jerked into activity. He began keying in data or taking readings, John didn't know which, probably both. He figured he could get the details later. Right now, he had a question to ask. Could the chair tell him how much of the Dream Shop was real?

Abruptly he sat up, and the chair powered down.

"What? What's wrong?" Rodney's hand hovered over his laptop. "What happened?"

"It's called a Proximity Communication Stone. Did you know that?" John stood up. "I bought it off a street vendor in Kabul. No, I didn't ask where he got it. I've been carrying the damn thing around with me ever since."

Rodney's eyes grew wide as John approached him. Step-by-step, John moved forward until Rodney's back was pressed against the wall. 

"It didn't always work, but it would glow sometimes. I just thought it was a crappy nightlight."

"It glowed. After you were stationed at Nellis?" Rodney guessed.

"Yeah." 

"We sometimes store Ancient artifacts at Area 51." Rodney's voice came out high and squeaky. "Those stones come in pairs. The second component was probably moved there and when you were close enough, well, there's a reason it's called a Proximity Stone."

"You knew?" 

"Not really. But O'Neill ran into something similar awhile back." Rodney lifted his chin. "Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you without security clearance."

"Then tell me this, Rodney." John leaned in, his breath gusting over Rodney's ear. "Why you? Why did you show up in my dreams? Hm?"

"I don't know! Maybe I was the last one to touch the stone when we put it in storage?"

"Not good enough, McKay." It all came rushing back. The confusion, the anger, the frustration, excitement, and even the anticipation of flying one of those funny little puddle jumpers. It was a torrent of feelings that only had one place to go. "Goddamn it!"

John curled his fingers into Rodney's shirt and pulled him into a furious kiss. The hard line of Rodney's mouth melted under his. That was unexpected. It was good though, really, surprisingly good. John moaned. His lips moved against Rodney's, demanding more.

Rodney sighed against his mouth, lips parting and letting John's tongue inside. His fingers threaded through John's hair, hanging on as his whole being seemed to melt into the kiss.

Finally, needing to breathe, John pulled away. "I probably hate you."

Rodney blinked back at him. "John, I'm an astrophysicist. You're going to be amazed at what I can do with probabilities."

~*~


End file.
